


A Gentler Kind of Violence

by bitter_sweets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Barely Legal, Detention, Drugged Sex, F/M, Female Harry, Female Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humiliation, Orgasm Denial, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, POV Severus Snape, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychological Torture, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red-Haired Harry Potter, Revenge, Shame, Shameless Smut, Slut Shaming, Smut, Taboo, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_sweets/pseuds/bitter_sweets
Summary: Harry is assigned detention and Snape teaches her a new kind of violence.





	A Gentler Kind of Violence

**Author's Note:**

> **READ THE TAGS!** THIS FIC CONTAINS **GRAPHIC** DEPICTIONS OF **RAPE/SEXUAL VIOLENCE.** VIEWER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.  
Seriously, please, _please_ read the tags. This is graphic, this is fucked up. I hope I don't need to say this, but rape is wrong and fucked up and a horrible evil thing. This is a work of fiction. This is not meant to glorify or promote rape. If you are sensitive to the subject then please do not read this I don't want to upset anyone. I've tried to tag this as well as I can so only people who want to find it will. This is not a light-hearted fic. **BTW this is an age-up fic. Harry is 18 in her 6th year, not 16.**
> 
> That being said, if you do decide to stay, I hope you enjoy.

_ **READ. THE. TAGS.** _

* * *

Harry arrived at detention exactly one minute late.

She did it on purpose, of course. Snape had given her detention for having the mere audacity to talk before class started. Even now the memory made her teeth grind. Malfoy had been chatting away to his friends after that, and not a word spoken. Despite the icy glare Snape gave her, she did her best to look aloof.

“You’re late Potter. Are you incapable of reading a watch?”

“No. Sir.”

She gave him her coolest stare, running a hand through her already unruly fiery hair. A muscle in his jaw jumped at the sight, and she smiled. No doubt he saw her father in the action. Good. After his part in Sirius’ death she had nothing but hatred for him. The fact that Dumbledore trusted him made her stomach turn.

_Murderer_.

“You’ll be scrubbing cauldrons today. I trust you can handle such a simple task?” Snape’s gaze burned like twin black flames, each word sharp and crisp like a whiplash.

Harry nodded, but Snape wasn’t satisfied. “Words, Potter. Or is verbal language beyond your grasp as well?”

She struggled not to snap. “Yes. Sir.”

“Get to it, then.” Snape didn’t spare her another moment of his time, instead turning his attention to the small cauldron on his desk.

For a moment Harry had to struggle to temper the anger surging through her. It licked at her insides as she grabbed the wire brush and dragonhide gloves. He was a foul thing. Bloody dungeon bat, git faced, slime ball. The cauldrons were about as enticing as they were every detention and she sighed. Better get to it. The last thing she wanted to do was give Snape _another_ excuse to give her detention.

* * *

Severus watched Potter as she bent over the cauldron, scrubbing with sharp angry motions. He could feel the heady excitement under his skin, tingling like a buzz of lightning. The trap had been laid and Potter had neatly sprung it. Now it was inevitable. He watched the tan of her skin flushed with exertion as she worked and felt something stir in him. Potter had become a woman in the last year, her body filling out from its childish skinniness. Now he could see the way the robes clung to her chest and Quidditch-toned arse. Delicately thin features were screwed into a scowl as she glanced at him, green eyes flashing.

She resembled Lily more and more every day.

A gentle heat was simmering in him as he brewed, keeping an eye on the Gryffindor. He loathed her brash bold attitude, the way she seemed to embody the Marauder spirit. The defiance stung like poison. She had a voice too much like Lily with the same fiery hair and evergreen eyes. He hated her father and the way it showed in her deplorable spectacles and messy hair. Emotions clashed within him, a storm that demanded he find a way to let them out. To calm them. And what better way, than to get revenge on the thing causing it? The knowledge of what he was doing hung bright and clear like a beacon as he tipped the final ingredient into his cauldron.

Immediately a delicate shimmer of steam rose from the bubbling red liquid. It spread out through the office, odorless and unnoticeable. Snape had added one of his hairs to the brew so it wouldn’t affect him, but he watched Potter with concealed delight. It took around five minutes for her to show the first signs. The girl paused as she straightened up from a cauldron, shaking her head slightly. She seemed confused and a bit dazed, but not alarmed. He had to hide a smile. His trap had fully been set now, and there would be no escaping. Finally, she would be brought to heel for every disrespectful action she had ever taken. Finally, she would be _punished_.

* * *

Harry heaved a great sigh as she stood up again. The room seemed to sway with the motion and she nearly stumbled sideways. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, but now the floor felt positively spongey, her muscles weak and clumsy. _What the hell?_ It reminded her of the time Ron had nicked some Firewhiskey and they’d had three shots each. Her thoughts had the same soft and vague quality. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and slowly leaned back into the cauldron. If she was careful the spinning wouldn’t feel too bad. Part of her wondered if the stains were toxic and giving her a weird reaction. Snape probably would have left them as an added punishment. How he was still a teacher was beyond her.

The dizzy feeling grew and the next time she leaned over the rim she went forwards too much. Harry let out a yelp as she fell headfirst into the cauldron. It was just large enough her weight didn’t tip it over, but she couldn’t get herself at an angle she could get out. The metal around her felt like it was rotating with the spinning in her head. She let out a small groan and gave another shot at heaving herself out.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Potter?”

Warmth crept over her face and she grit out, “I’m stuck.”

“Pardon?” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I’m stuck!” She repeated, feeling her face warm more as blood rushed to her head and anger seethed.

“What a pity,” Snape murmured.

No sound of movement came from him. Harry gritted her teeth and struggled in vain to free herself. She really was at a terrible angle, there was no way to get the leverage she needed. The sound of her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and she could feel angry tears prickling at her eyes. She absolutely _loathed_ him, why did Dumbledore let him teach? He’d harass a student before he helped them. And he hated her with a fiery passion, her exclusively. She knew why of course, but it didn’t make him any less foul. The words scraped like glass at her throat as she struggled to get them out.

“I need help.”

She heard a shift of movement. “Is that so?”

Sharper glass, “Please, sir.”

Snape sighed, and she could hear him stand. “You really are incompetent in everything you do, aren’t you Potter?

Rage danced in her stomach, small explosions making her want to snap back, but she didn’t. It was hard to hold onto anyways with the dizziness. She tried to focus her hearing, but Snape made no noise as he moved. Suddenly an arm was hooked around her middle and she was pulled from the sour smelling metal. Harry stumbled, the world swaying alarmingly. She would have fallen on her ass if Snape hadn’t pulled her up against him. His robes smelled like a mixture of spicy and earthy things and for a moment she froze. He didn’t let go of her.

“Professor?” A thrill of fear fluttered at the base of her spine.

He let her go as though she scalded him, his warmth replaced by the chill of the dungeon. Harry swallowed hard, unease moving through her as she turned to look at him. Snape’s pale, harsh features were stark between the curtains of lank dark hair. She quickly broke his gaze, remembering last year’s lessons in Occlumency. There was no way she was ever letting that slime ball ever read her mind again! The gruesome diagram of someone being magically skinned was a prettier sight anyways.

* * *

Small jolts of excitement were running up and down Severus’ body. He had to work to calm himself, to still himself. This would be perfect. A flawless revenge fit for all the sins of the daughter, father, and mother combined. The worst parts of him that he’d suppressed since the war were running free. Dumbledore was dying, the Dark Lord would win. Why _couldn’t_ he indulge himself? He hated Lily for dying, hated her for choosing Potter over him. She hadn’t forgiven him no matter how much he’d tried to apologize, despite forgiving Potter and his degenerates for every vile thing they’d done. Even now a part of him still loved her, wanted her forgiveness, and it only made him hate her more. The rage was simmering under his skin like the warmth of a drink. She had forsaken him when he’d needed her most. She had discarded him.

He owed her nothing.

“Professor?”

Potter was looking at him again, though she was careful not to meet his eyes. It infuriated him further, knowing she would defy him even now. He stepped forward and Potter took a step back, green eyes finally snapping to meet his reflexively. They were as clear as windows into her soul, every unease and insecurity bare for his mind to peruse. She feared him, though she tried to deny it, and the thought sent a shudder of approval through him. He drew his wand slowly, carefully, drinking in the unease on her face as she stumbled a couple unsteady steps backwards. Her expression was _almost_ perfect.

“You have caused me . . . trouble, Miss Potter,” Severus said, savoring the words on his tongue, “Detentions never work. You defy me at every turn-“

“I’m not defying anyone!” Potter burst out, glaring, “If I ever _defy_ you, that’s just because you hate Gryffindors and see _anything_ we do as defying you!”

_Fear_. He could hear the false bravado in her voice, could see the way her eyes darted around the room anxiously. She was scared. It was _intoxicating_. He wanted to bring more of that tone out, to hear true terror in her voice. To finally have her fear him in the way she ought to. Of course, there was an order to things. He could have used magic, but to start he wouldn’t need it. Severus didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reply, merely casting a non-verbal locking charm at the door with a subtle twitch of his wand. He pocketed his wand and began a slow stalk forward.

“Wh- what are you doing?!”

Potter backed up in time with him, her steps unsteady. Her wand was in her hand, but he paid it no mind. She let out a small gasp as her back hit a table and lost her balance. He surged forwards at her distraction, pressing her against the small table. Immediately she began to push at him, but it was a feeble attempt with her muscles weakened by the potion.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?! _Get OFF me!_” Potter tried to scratch at his face and Severus easily pinned her arms. When she tried to kick him, he threw her to the floor. She let out a small cry as she hit the hard stone and it was like music to his ears. Her wand went rolling away, making the weak even weaker. Already he could feel his body reacting with the quicksilver exhilaration running through him. It was more alluring than the Dark Arts.

“I think it’s time you had a proper punishment, Potter.” He walked forward leisurely as she scrabbled backwards, green eyes wide in a pale face. Lily was in her daughter’s face, but he’d never seen her eyes so terrified. It satisfied him in a savage primal way that made his prick positively rock hard.

“What the hell are you talking about?! BACK OFF!” He could see the way she paled as she noticed the tent in his robes. Her voice rose several octaves, no attempt at false calmness. “Seriously get the fuck away from me! I’ll tell Dumbledore, I’ll-“

Severus pointed his wand very carefully at her, watching the way her body froze instinctively. “You will do no such thing, Potter. You won’t be telling anyone about this.”

He slashed his wand through the air and black ropes sprung from the tip. Potter tried to throw herself out of the way, but he had all the advantages with her reflexes affected by the potion. She gasped as the ropes tied her arms together above her head. That sound turned into a small cry as she was yanked into the air. Her toes brushed the ground, providing some relief. By the pained look on her face he doubted it was much. He took his time to examine her helpless and strung up before him. The sight made it hard to wait, to do what he needed to do for his perfect revenge. But he would. He wouldn’t spoil this for anything.

* * *

Harry tried to stand as carefully as she could to alleviate the fire in her shoulders and back. The pain was nothing on the fear, however. It was like a forest fire consuming everything. She wanted to puke. Even having faced down Voldemort multiple times hadn’t prepared her for real fear, for this. With Voldemort, the worst thing that could happen was death. With the way Snape was looking at her . . . she didn’t think that was the case. The sight of his _interest_ made it feel like the room had lost all the oxygen. Her heart felt frantic enough to explode. She wanted to say something smart, something bold, but for once she was speechless. She felt terror. It even managed to pierce through the fog that was filling the rest of her thoughts.

“I thought about the perfect way to punish you,” Snape said finally, eyes burning into her. “Pain, you seem to tolerate, so then I thought, what about your dignity?”

“I’m not scared of you.” She knew neither of them believed her, but she had to say it anyways.

He just watched her in that same detached, yet intense way. The silence stretched long enough Harry could feel sweat beading from the nerves. Then he spoke, the words oddly clinical for the way they hit her like stones. “I thought to simply rape you at first, but then I knew you’d find a way to make yourself the victim. Gryffindors do love their victimhood. No, a much more satisfying punishment will be making you _beg_ for it.”

“I would NEVER!” Harry’s words were snarled, but she felt cold. _Rape_. She’d never known how subtle fear could be, how delicately it could suffocate every thought but panic. She wanted to puke.

“Are you so sure?” Snape asked as he lifted his wand. Harry watched the progress with a horrified gaze, wondering if he would cast the Imperius. She knew she could throw it, but it didn’t give much comfort.

Instead of a spell, Snape merely placed the tip of his wand on her collarbone. She gasped at the cool touch and tried to squirm away. It was useless, of course. He drew his wand down, her robes and shirt splitting under its touch.

“Stop! STOP!” She tried to struggle backwards but the ropes didn’t budge, burning and tugging at her wrists. “Seriously get the fuck off me! Dumbledore will find out- he-“

“He’s dying,” Snape said, amused now. “He has other things to worry about than foolish Gryffindor girls.”

His wand travelled all the way down to her groin and she jumped at the contact. Hatred surged inside her as he pulled her split clothes down and free from her body. The rest he Vanished, leaving only her glasses. Cool dungeon air brushed against her exposed chest and she could feel her nipples hardening. Very few people had seen her naked body and for Snape to- it made her sick. She refused to look at him, but the second she tried to turn her head away a bruising grip clamped on her jaw. He pulled her head around, the pain aching as she tried to resist. As a last resort she tried to close her eyes, but the grip turned into a cracking smack and they flew open.

“You will look at me.”

Snape’s eyes bored into hers and she squeezed them shut again, defiant. This time it was a backhand on the other cheek and her head rocked from the force, glasses flying off. Stars swam behind her eyes and for a moment she lost sense of where she was. Snape’s harsh voice brought her back to earth.

“Look at me, Potter.”

Her entire face was throbbing, her pride tasting like ash. She opened her eyes slowly and met Snape’s black gaze. The blurriness didn’t do much to mask the look on his face with him that close. He was like a different person. Never had she considered her Professor warm, but now his icy looks in class looked like hot summer days. Wordlessly, he spelled her glasses back on and they didn’t move when she shook her head. She didn’t want to see him, but it seemed she would have to. He held her gaze as he brought his hand forward, cupping her groin.

“D- don’t! _DON’T_! Get off!”

He ignored her struggling and his finger rubbed along her cunt. She kicked out at him, but he easily dodged. Snape merely flicked his wand and suddenly her legs were bound by floating ropes as well, held spread wide. She let out a small cry of frustration, tears threatening to fall. He was vile! Foul! Voldemort had never succeeded in making her feel this humiliated and scared. No amount of writhing did anything as his fingers resumed exploring her. They slid against the gentle skin of her pussy, sending small shivers into her groin despite her fear. He found her clit and rubbed it a bit, causing her to gasp. It was unusually sensitive, the sensation shooting straight to her groin.

“Don’t! Seriously, please- don’t-“ Harry knew she was begging at this point, but her pride had crumbled. Her blood felt like it was turning to ice.

For a moment she had relief as he removed his hand, but it was just for him to whisper a quick spell. When he brought it back, it was slick with lubricant. He began to rub small circles on her clit while his gaze held her. Nausea and bile were rising in her alongside the sparks and jolts of pleasure. She didn’t want this! Looking at him as he molested her was too much, she snapped her head to the side again. Another blow smashed into her face and she saw stars.

“You will look at me Potter, or I will spell your head into place.”

“You’re vile,” She whispered, meeting his eyes again, “Completely fucking vile.”

Her face throbbed in tune with the frantic thrum of her heart. There was something innately filthier about the way he held her eyes as he touched her. She wanted to snap at him, but there was a stillness to him that made her wary. This was not a Snape she knew even a bit. Despite hating him, she hadn’t really thought he’d sink this low. His fingers moved across her, skilled and light and drawing jolts of pleasure she didn’t want. A tight coil of heat was forming in her stomach. She did her best to stay still and deny him any reaction, but her hips jerked slightly as he worked.

“You don’t have to do this.” She bit back a gasp and tried to still her body. “Seriously- I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go- please-“

Snape laughed, the sound as harsh and unpleasant as the rest of him. “Bartering won’t get you anywhere Potter. _You_ put yourself into this situation. You _will_ learn proper respect.”

“I’m not going to respect you through this,” Harry said, her voice a near whisper. “All I’m going to think is you’re twice the monster I ever thought you were.”

“Fear, respect, I see no difference.”

She hoped he could see the disgust for him in her eyes. He was the lowest of the low. Harry’s back arched slightly as his fingers worked over her. Tighter and tighter the coil was curling. Sweat dripped down her neck, muscles sore from straining against the ropes. She tried to think of every filthy and disgusting thing she could. The thought of coming in her teacher’s hand made her ill. It was useless. Tighter and tighter until she could taste the heat on her tongue. He was part of the reason Sirius was dead- he was a Death Eater- this was _wrong_.

“Get off- seriously, please just stop! Professor, please!” She tried to writhe away, but he simply pressed against her more mercilessly.

“What would your friends think, to see you coming undone on nothing but your hated Professor’s fingers?” Snape asked, his hand not slowing.

She glared at him, doing her best to ignore the fire rising in her gut. “They’d think you’re a disgusting rapist that preys on his students.”

His smile was soulless. “Then what would they think of the little whore getting off to it?”

The words hit her like a slap and she jerked, stung. For a moment her mouth opened, but she closed it, unable to think of anything to say. Snape gave her such a smug expression she wanted to cry. Harry took a shuddering breath but didn’t drop Snape’s gaze. She tried to fill every ounce of her being with hatred, so he would see exactly how disgusting he was. He smiled, probably reading the thought, and leaned forward. His other hand reached up to cup one of her breasts, kneading and playing with the skin with surprising gentleness.

“I’ll fucking kill you- _GET OFF ME!_” Harry couldn’t do much more than pull at the bonds, the pain clearing some of the fog and arousal.

It was useless.

Snape ignored every insult she could think of, words sliding off him like water. Her breathing grew harsher and harsher as he gently and methodically stroked the fire fanning up her ribcage. No thoughts of Doxxy droppings or repulsive things could stop it. Nothing could. When she tried to deny him the satisfaction of looking into her mind, he hit her so hard she tasted blood from where she bit her tongue. He spelled her head into place.

“If you do not behave, Potter, you will be forced to.”

“I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you.” The words were repeated like a mantra, a ward against the evil fondling her chest and groin. She arched uselessly in the ropes as she felt the dancing sparks of the precursor to an orgasm. Snape’s fingers plucked and tweaked her nipples, drawing unwilling bursts of arousal. The hand between her leg was now slick with her own juices, her pussy throbbing tightly.

The first tears fell.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn’t help it. They dripped down her face even as she was forced to stare at him. Snape smiled. It was a horrid, twisted smile like a limb bent backwards. _Wrong_.

“So close.” He sneered, “To think you’d be this easy.”

“Fuck. You.” She flexed uselessly in her bonds, breaths coming in pants.

He laughed again, “Soon enough, Potter. But first you have to beg.”

“I’d rather die.”

Snape didn’t bother replying. Closer and closer, ever so gently he pushed her right to the brink. Nothing could stop it. Tears dripped onto her chest as she felt the first lances of pleasure peak. It was like a dam breaking, her body curling and straining against the ropes as she came. Her sweat-slicked limbs shook, a small sob escaping. The pure pleasure of it made her want to puke from the guilt. She hated herself just as much as him in that moment.

_Disgusting_.

“Was that so hard, Potter?” Snape’s fingers finally let up their assault on her body. “Coming like a little whore for your teacher, how very brave and heroic of you.”

“You’re a monster, you’re vile, you’re _evil_-“

“Spare me the melodrama,” Snape said, running a hand leisurely up her body. She cringed away but her bonds wouldn’t let her get anywhere. Hatred crawled up the back of her throat like bile.

“You’ll pay for this,” she whispered, wishing for nothing more than to be anywhere but here. This felt like a nightmare, but she wasn’t sleeping. There would be no waking up. Her stomach roiled as the reality of what just happened bounced around her head. Over and over. Disgusting and shameful, no matter how hard she tried to remind herself it was just an organ being stimulated. A fresh wave of tears poured down her face. He’d taken something, an experience that should have been hers to choose, regardless of her feelings in the matter.

She felt sick.

* * *

He felt exhilarated.

Watching her cry made him want to draw more sobs out, maybe screams. Making her come had been a pleasure all on its own. It was a sick revenge, a perverted satisfaction. He loved it and hated himself for loving it while loving that he hated it. Severus was a vile contradiction and he took vindictive pleasure in unleashing it. Finally, his revenge could be extracted by each tear falling down those flushed cheeks. He could taste its sweetness in every tortured pant, in the redness circling her wrists. In her pathetic begs.

“Who will make me pay?” He asked, each word teasingly slow, pure enjoyment coursing through him, “What makes you think you’ll leave here remembering this? What’s to stop me from bringing you to the Dark Lord himself? I can do _whatever I want_.” He licked up a tear on the curve of her breast, enjoying the way she cringed away from him.

“I’ll kill you, I’ll _fucking_ kill you- don’t _touch me_!”

Severus smiled and took pleasure in doing the exact opposite.

Potter made a beautiful sight as she tried to struggle away from him. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, her insults like music to his ears. Over and over he marked her skin, leaving purpling love-marks all over her chest and stomach. She was his to do what he wanted with. There was nothing she could do if he wanted to mark her body as his own, no matter how many curses she hurled. Potter was barely legal, and her inexperience was obvious. Reading her body was painfully easy. He delighted in bringing her so far he could feel her legs trembling with the closeness of it before he’d pull away, leaving her _almost_ there, but never fully.

Her cries were like the finest wine.

He could have spent years drinking them in, finding new ways to explore her body. Graceful fingers delved into her pussy, wet and trembling around them. His mind pressed into hers, finding exactly the right places to stroke. He watched her back arch as he played her mercilessly, drawing her just there only to leave her hanging, suspended in torture. Eventually she stopped insulting him and just begged.

“_Please_, I’ll never bother you again I’ll never tell anyone, please- _please_ just let me _go_.”

Her green eyes were glassy and red with tears, unable to look away because of his spell. The sight had him painfully aroused. Her fiery hair was perfectly dishevelled now, tanned skin flushed and marked all over. Nobody looking would be able to deny what had been done to her. She was his to use. He wanted her complete surrender so badly he could taste it. Further and further, over and over he threw her out only to leave her frustrated.

“This can all be over if you just beg,” He reminded her, “I’ll let you come on my cock.”

“Don’t-“ She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but opened them when he gave a warning sigh. “Please- don’t.”

“Beg me,” he repeated, fingers keeping a rhythm that had her shaking in her bonds.

“_No_.”

Her voice was smaller, the bark gone, and he smirked at the sight of her expression. _Perfect_. He knew he could break her down, it would only be a matter of time. And he was patient. Again and again he enjoyed her. Eventually tasting her with his tongue, bringing a new bout of insults that quickly lost their spirit. It was divine, he could practically taste the shame on her skin. Touching her in places he could tell she’d never shared with another person. Again and again he strung her out until she was simply sobbing. No sense of dignity left. No bark. When she finally broke, he could see it in her eyes. She was so close and he knew it had to be a hell unlike anything she’d ever experienced, especially with the potions heightening sensation and dulling inhibition and thoughts.

“Please . . .”

“Please what?” He smirked as a fresh wave of tears ran down her face. It was amazing she hadn’t dried up.

Potter’s face crumpled, “I just want it over. Please- please just- just do it. Get it over with it.”

“Tell me you want to come on my cock Potter. Admit that you’re taking the easy way out because you want to come so badly it doesn’t even matter that it’s _me_.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “N- no- I just-“

“Potter.” His voice brooked no argument and he pressed mercilessly into her to prove his point, feeling her clench around him, “_Tell me_.”

“Fuck- I hate you,” she said, gasping through her tears. “Please- just- fuck- I want to come on your cock and it doesn’t matter. Just fucking DO IT! You disgusting _monster_\- you _fucking_-“ A sob cut her off and she hung limply in her bonds, a pitiful sight. A shivering, shaking, mess.

A _perfect_ sight.

* * *

Harry felt broken.

It was like being on the brink of insanity, brought to the edge over and over. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted to come and just- just _stop_. If he killed her it wouldn’t bother her at this point. Her emotions felt dry and shrivelled, used up and wasted in the hell-scape that was her reality. Every detail was engraved into her mind, she’d be surprised if he could erase them. It was a nightmare, living hell like the video games Dudley played. Monsters, no people.

“If you insist,” Snape murmured, and he looked so satisfied she wanted to puke.

She would have, if she hadn’t wanted it so badly to just be _over_. This feeling of slime would never leave her. It was in her bones and clogged her throat as Snape pulled her forward in a bruising grip. His lips met hers in a perverted mockery of a kiss. When she didn’t respond he pulled back, tutting.

“Now, now, Potter, you want this, don’t you? Don’t tell me you need more discipline . . .”

“N- no-“ She took a painful breath. “I want this.”

“Of course, you do. _Good girl_.”

The words sent an uneasy shiver down her spine as his lips met hers again. It felt filthy to be kissing her teacher, to be kissing a _murderer_, but she tried to pretend enthusiasm. She nearly gagged when he shoved his tongue in her mouth. It was slimy and warm, and she ended up just moving her tongue awkwardly in return. Snape didn’t seem to mind, sucking and nipping at her mouth, plundering her as his hands explored her body. He tasted slightly sour, making her feel ill with the reality of _who_ she was kissing. _What_ was happening. It was vile, the fact that her strung up body was enjoying this on a small level, no matter how much she hated it also. She just wanted release. So, _so_, badly.

When Snape removed the bonds there was a painful moment where she froze, considering running. But Snape’s voice snuffed those desires out like a flame. “Potter.”

Harry wrapped her arms around him slowly, a disgusting mockery of a lover’s embrace as he continued to kiss her. He pressed her back until she was against a wall and then his hand found its way between her legs. She shook as he stroked her, once, twice. Then he was positioning himself, lifting her higher as he spread her legs. Her heartbeat picked up, fear clogging her throat and making her eyes water. She didn’t want this but needed it so badly at the same time. The shame would kill her if he didn’t. It was like being torn apart. She barely felt the tears pouring again, trying to pretend she was anywhere but here.

Snape didn’t waste time, filling her a single thrust.

Harry let out a small cry as she sobbed into his mouth. He swallowed every sound, beginning to slowly pump in and out as he kissed her. Her body was gripped painfully tight around him, the sensation as foreign as it was unwelcome. She felt disgusting. It was a perverted mockery of what should have been a special moment to her, a twisted mimic. He used her as he pleased, only seeming more aroused by her distress. She was just a means to an end to him. Harry tried to be unresponsive, but the painfulness of being nearly there had her moving with the thrusts. Maybe if he came he’d leave, maybe if she tried to imagine anyone else it wouldn’t feel so much like shattering.

Pieces were splintering off as she gasped to the smack of flesh. They flew apart where his tongue violated her mouth and snapped into bits as he fucked her. And it was fucked- it was _so fucked_. Every detail seared into her mind, from the black of his eyes to the scrape of his fingers where he gripped her waist. New sensations that should have been hers to explore, stripped away piece by piece. She hated him, but it was nothing on how much she hated herself. Pushing against him, driving into the overwhelming fullness, sobbing as she felt the fire reach a peak. A disgusting whore seeking her end.

A small broken cry was the only sound she made as she came around him.

Snape didn’t last much longer, thrusting deeply, once, twice before stilling with a groan. She felt a vague warmness and realized in a detached way that her hated Professor had just cum in her. A man had cum in her. It was a bit like being at the bottom of a well with sounds and snatches of images coming on from above. The shattering had finally quieted and now she was left among the silence and shards. Snape pulled away, spelling himself clean. He gave her a sick smile.

“I always knew you were a whore.”

She didn’t respond, just staring dully at the ground. Maybe it was shock, but a light shiver was running over her body. Tears were running down her face again, but she couldn’t feel them, not really. She didn’t want to feel anything. When Snape raised his wand, she didn’t flinch. Her eyes followed the tip as it slowly came to rest pointed at her. She wasn’t scared anymore.

How could he possibly hurt her more than he had already?

“I could kill you.” He said it an almost conversational way, like commenting on the weather.

She remained silent, wishing he would.

He shook his head, a slow sneering smile taking over his face. “But then I thought of a better punishment. I know a spell that will let you keep the memories, but never be able to share them. Your own little reminder of your place. Of what insolence gets you.”

Silence.

“Nothing to say?”

She shook her head and stayed quiet. And she remained that way. She was when he cast a spell that sent blue orbs spinning around her head. No cry of pain past her lips when they soared into her eyes, burning her and stealing her voice surrounding the memories. Not even a whisper of disgust as his hand brushed her shoulder mockingly.

The quiet held her as she was given her robes back and dressed quickly. It wrapped around her as she walked as fast as she could through the dungeons. She only let a sound out when she was in the Quidditch pitch under the blanket of night. Harry gave a small gasp, tasting forest and air and- _It hurt_. The quiet couldn’t stay after all as a sob followed, and another. The memories were still there, the sensations were still there. She couldn’t breathe with the weight on her lungs, the crawling on her skin. She felt disgusting. She felt-

It was suffocating, it was painful. It was breaking.

Harry curled up under the stars and wept.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad to see you made it to the end! Did you enjoy the fic? It was an exercise on writing a more fucked up piece. This account I intend to use for posting taboo/twisted smut fics. If you have any comments on the writing I'd love to hear them. I worked hard on this. Critical suggestions are welcome too, I'm always looking to improve. Just keep it civil. Any suggestions for future fics? This account is going to be dark, so feel free to suggest fucked up scenarios. I'm always looking for new ideas.


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